Firefly Glen I'm sorry if I hurt you, I'm sorry if it got that bad

Argh, I'm sorry I came late to this!  This will be a one-time post so as not to hold anything up. ;o;  Ah editing in detail at the end, sorry.

The bitter cold of winter had kept Tehama close to home, sheltering in various makeshift dens.  Most were cramped and drafty, but better than the open air at night, exposed to the elements.  During the day was a different story, and so the Iota mostly roamed the mountain, often taking a turn at the borders, or further mentally cataloguing Moonspear's terrain.  Thus when first one howl, then another, went up interlaced with panic, fear, warning, pleading, Tehama made for the source of the calls with as much haste as the treacherous terrain of the mountain's upper heights would permit.  

At long last, when she was close to Firefly Glen, she caught the scent of Hydra and a trace also of Desdemona, and pushed herself to run as fast as she could, and then urged herself still faster.

Whatever she had anticipate, it was not this carnage.  The overpowering stench of bear and blood mingled in her nostrils and no sooner had the crumpled form of Desdemona reached her gaze than Tehama issued a wail of incomparable fury and frustration.  The tawny female rushed to her side, but empty eye sockets and ravaged features were all that was left to greet her.  It was clear that the time it had taken her to traverse their shared mountain home was too long.  She was too slow.  She had failed her friend, and now nothing else, nothing more that could have been would ever be. 

Others moved in her periphery.  Hydra's voice came to her on the cold air but seemed so far away and indistinct it was only a vague murmur.  She couldn't hope to focus on anything just now.  Tears like fire burned searing hot trails down her cheeks, blurred her vision, turning the broken bodies of the dead and the living alike into a macabre kaleidoscope.  Already, the heat was draining from Desdemona's form.  Though she knew in her mind it was futile, wasted effort, Tehama lay down in the blood-stained snow, and curled herself protectively around Desdemona's lifeless corpse. 

At a moment's length, it became apparent that they meant to take her home.  Hydra and whomever else--Tehama's vision was such that she couldn't identify faces, even if she'd know them.  Reluctantly, Tehama withdrew from Desdemona's side, recognizing her own claim on the woman was meager in comparison to those who were truly family and friends of longstanding.  Swallowing against the grief in her throat that kept her from speaking, she prayed silently that wherever Desdemona was now, she was at peace.  It was clear that her soul had fled.